


“Obviously somebody had been appallingly incompetent and he hoped to God it wasn't him.”

by notjustmom



Series: Towel Day 2018 [25]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: A Proposal, Douglas Adams, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Towel Day 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 23:02:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14963895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: a proposal...





	“Obviously somebody had been appallingly incompetent and he hoped to God it wasn't him.”

He loathed incompetence. More than he loathed anything. More than that pudding forced upon him as a child, when he would visit his mum's elderly aunt, but she was convinced he was fond of it. He loathed it more than going to the shops. No, well, he hadn't ever really gone to the shops except for that one case, and that didn't really count as 'going to the shops' since he didn't actually shop for anything, so he wasn't sure he actually loathed going to the shops. Let's just say that Sherlock hated incompetence. With a passion and leave it at that. 

And at the moment he was quite afraid that he had been at the very least, incompetent. Possibly, though, it was just his vantage point. He was currently on one knee, and he was looking up at John's face, which was, he had to admit, at a funny angle, and it was hard to tell exactly what John was thinking.

He had, he thought, gone about it properly. He had studied the latest bits and blurbs online, checked Instagram, and Pinterest, even Googled, "How to..." and it appeared that the basic idea hadn't changed in centuries. 

How dull. 

But, he supposed there were times for tradition. He had purchased a ring, not just any ring, either. He had a guy, who knew a guy, who owed a guy, who worked in gold, he knew it was going to take months, as he was quite backlogged, but when he finally picked it up from his guy and opened the box, he knew it was just perfect - it was John's, meant to be on John's finger... and he had made reservations at John's favorite restaurant, or at least the one John had been wanting to try, he thought about doing it at Angelo's, but Angelo couldn't keep a secret to save his life. He would have known something was up the minute they walked in the door. He hadn't made John dress up, just asked him to wear a tie - he even wore a tie himself. He never wore a tie. He loathed ties nearly as much as he loathed incompetence. Back to the present moment, or back a moment or two, or was it thirty by now? He couldn't tell.

"John."

"Sherlock."

"There is a question, I've been meaning to ask you."

"Okay?" John's face did that thing, his eyes crinkled and turned that as yet unnamed shade of blue, and a tiny smile made his dimples - get on with it already.

"Right. Yes. Dinner was satisfactory?" No... not that question. And again John's eyes danced at him.

"It was amazing."

"Good. Good. Uhm. Right." He got up from the table and somehow walked the three steps to stand in front of John, then carefully, though a bit noisily got to one knee, and felt again in his pocket for the box that had been burning the metaphorical hole there for the last two and a half hours, ever since he had put it in there just before they had left Baker Street.

"John."

John nodded as he took his hand.

"John Watson. Will you do me the honour of becoming my husband?"

The room had gone silent. So silent, in fact, that he wondered if he was going to have to perform CPR on every man and woman in the room, including the man whose hand he was currently holding. He wasn't sure he had that much hot air in him - but - 

"Yes."

Did he? Just say -

"Yes?"

"Yes, of course, you idiot, yes." John leaned down and kissed his forehead, then each eyelid, then his nose and finally placed a gentle kiss on his lips, and Sherlock remembered how to breathe. The once silent room erupted in applause, whistles and general noises of approval. "Do you need help getting up, love?"

"Please?"


End file.
